The Wykehamist
I’ ve not always thought of Christmas as a love story, if I’ m honest. In fact, in the McKinnel household when we were growing up, excitement for Christmas day was mingled with fear, genuine fear, of the stranger who would break into quiet houses on Christmas Eve in the dead of night, dressed in a red hoodie( with fur trim) and we knew he would come into our bedrooms when we were asleep.
We were legitimately afraid of this man, and you should be too. Listen to the lyrics of this song about him:
You better watch out You better not cry You better not pout I’ m telling you why Santa Claus is coming to town
He sees you when you’ re sleeping And he knows when you’ re awake He knows if you’ ve been bad or good So be good for goodness sake!
Perhaps that’ s how you think of God … a distant rule loving killjoy, who’ s essentially out to ruin our Christmas fun. Someone who’ s put us firmly on the naughty list. But if that’ s what we think, we’ ve got him badly wrong.
“ Fear not!” we read, three times in our Bible readings this morning.“ Fear not” says the angel to the shepherds;“ Fear not!” says the angel Gabriel to Mary;“ Fear not!” says John in Revelations 22. Because this Prince comes in love to dispel fear and destroy the darkness of evil.
The prophet Isaiah predicted Christmas like this 700 years before when he wrote:“ the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness on them the light has shone.”
You see, right there in the deepest darkness of our desperate and sinful world, the light of God’ s love shines.
The world feels dark, at times, doesn’ t it? And the problem’ s not just in the headlines. It’ s in each of our homes, and in each of our hearts. Even the festive family fun of Christmas is often overshadowed by arguments by mid-afternoon; or the empty place at the table where a one once sat; and when it’ s over and the left-over turkey has been put in the bin, and the decorations are back in the attic it all feels a bit flat.
About 1 in 6 people are facing Christmas alone this year; the Winchester food bank— like hundreds of others around the country— is expecting to be overrun; millions are anxious about the cost of living.
This love story is light for those in the darkness. It’ s hope for the broken-hearted; for the lonely; the bereaved; the anxious. It’ s a love story for the widow in Gaza and Israel; for the Ukrainian refugee; for the father worried about the cost of living; for the anxious, lost and guilt ridden.
And so, at Christmas, we don’ t need to say,“ Look what the world has come to,” but in delight,“ Look what has come to the world.”
The one who stoops, serves and suffers for our sake.
If a king remains on a throne and never climbs down, that’ s one kind of greatness, I suppose. But there’ s another kind, there’ s the greatness of the kind who climbs down and humbles himself and condescends to join his people. And what about a king who descends even further becoming a servant, serving his people in poverty, suffering, fighting, bleeding and dying for them? That’ s another kind of greatness entirely. Think of an adult who speaks to a toddler while towering over them, and now picture one who stoops down to their level. Or imagine a homeless man drunk and lying in the gutter. One helper gives advice from on high; another lies down in the filth of the gutter speaking face to face. This is the gutter level glory of the Word made flesh. It is the greatest love story ever told. It’ s a story that begins with the God who is love.
In a few short weeks, when the wrapping paper will have been put in the bin, the decorations safely put away in their boxes and the last of the New Year’ s resolutions firmly broken, the reality of this love story continues … and he invites you into that love this Christmas time.
Thank you to the Rev. JRM for allowing us to publish this sermon. It was delivered in Christmastime, 2023.
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